


Switching things up

by Bunnywest



Series: Rabbit verse [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-02 13:16:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10945269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunnywest/pseuds/Bunnywest
Summary: Stiles would be lying if he said he hasn’t at least thought about it, OK. And it's his birthday, after all.





	1. An unexpected offer

It’s Stiles birthday. It’s his birthday and he’s 23, and he’s had a few drinks at Peter’s bar, getting pleasantly buzzed and flirting with the “barkeep”.

 (The guy’s spotted him a few drinks, and Stiles is pretty sure they’re going home together at the end of the night. Stiles tells Peter this. Stiles also tells Peter he’s hilarious. Peter rolls his eyes and cuts him off).

 Peter’s promised him something special to mark the occasion, to celebrate both his birthday and their almost two month dating anniversary. He’s told Stiles he promises he’ll like it, but that he can’t have it if he’s had too much to drink.

So Stiles switches happily to ginger beer, because honestly, Peter hasn’t disappointed him yet. He’s come a long way since their first date, discovering all sorts of hidden talents and kinks.

Turns out that he’s really good at oral sex, giving  Peter orgasm after orgasm, until even with his werewolf refactory period, he’s oversensitive and gasping, and God, the times he makes Peter come so hard and so often that his fangs pop? That’s gold. He does it as often as he can. Peter never objects, just laughs, calls him a cocky little shit, and usually returns the favor, once he can move again.

Biting, that’s a thing for him apparently. Peter has promised he’ll never turn him, human teeth only, but even those leave such lovely marks, circular little slices of heaven that he can press down on the next day to feel the sting, and remember the night before.

He checks his watch – it’s ten minutes to closing. Time to make his way up to Peter’s apartment upstairs, shower, and wait for his surprise. He’s pretty confident sex is involved, but it’s Peter. Could be anything.

He waves to Peter, points up to indicate he’s on his way, and snags a kiss on his way past.

 

By the time Peter joins him, he’s showered, found some snacks in the kitchen (beef jerky, because werewolf) and has settled onto the giant circular bed.

Peter’s bed is a thing of beauty. Stiles had been a bit judgy when he’d first seen it, but many hours spent in it have convinced him of its brilliance. Head hanging off the side of the bed? (To deepthroat your boyfriend?) Doesn’t matter. Every way’s the right way.

 Hot wolf boyfriend wants to chase you _round_ the bed before holding you down for sexytimes? It’s a _round_ goddam  bed, and it’s massive, easily half the width again of a standard kingsize.   

Stiles normally only manages about three laps before Peter cheats and leaps right across the top to grab him and drag him onto the magic bed, and the brilliance of the round bed is once again proven, because however they land,  Stiles can honestly say he’s in a good spot.

He thinks he’s a little bit in love with Peter’s bed, and angles to use it over his own as often as possible. He uses the excuse that they upset his neighbors when Peter howls and Stiles screams. It’s only partly a lie.

 

He feels Peter crawl up next to him on the bed, and turns his head for a kiss. It’s soft, and sweet, and slow, and Stiles thinks to himself that it’s a lovemaking kiss, and mentally switches gears.

Peter keeps kissing him, deeper now, and they roll gently together across the amazing bed.  Their hands run gently all over each other’s body; ass cheeks are squeezed, pecs are fondled, necks are licked, and clothing is shed.

And then, when they’re wrapped around each other, relaxed and comfortable, rutting gently against each other, Peter pulls back, and whispers “Time to play 20 questions Stiles?”

It’s become a thing between them, a way of checking in, a way to introduce new topics without judgement or embarrassment.  Anything asked in the game must be answered honestly, and the answer received without judgement.

 So when Peter asks that, Stiles lifts his head from where he’s been trying to suck a mark into Peter’s collarbone, grins, and breathes “Ask away, Wolfman..”

Peter questions are always clever, and always with a twist.

Stiles loves it.

Now, though, he asks a simple one.

“Would you like to top tonight?”

Well.

Well.

Stiles would be lying if he said he hasn’t at least thought about it, OK.

Peter regards him steadily, then takes his hand, and guides it round between his ass cheeks, where Stiles feels…something…has Peter been wearing that thing the whole time he was working  tonight?

Because damn. It’s a fair sized plug, and Peter has to be feeling it.

And normally he’d crack a joke, make a flip comment, but not for this. As birthday presents go, it’s a beauty.

Stiles says a simple “Yes”.

Peter grins wickedly. It’s on.

 


	2. Slick moves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter has smooth moves. Stiles is transfixed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter Hale does what he wants. I tried to tell him, honestly. "Peter", I said, "people might not like it if you bottom." He fixed me with an icy blue stare, grinned slowly, and replied " but honey, I'll like it".  
> And if you can argue with that then you're a better person than I am.

“Tonight, Stiles, it’s all about you” Peter tells him, “I’m all yours”.

And he presses Stiles fingers against the base of the plug and groans slightly as it moves inside him.

He wants this, he does, but where to start? He figures he should start by carrying on where they left off, so he goes back to sucking and biting on Peter’s clavicle, worrying at the flesh there. Even though he knows Peter won’t bruise worth a damn, he still enjoys the sensation of pulling the skin between his teeth, and the little hitches of breath he draws from his partner when he nips just _so_.

But now, at the same time, he grasps the base of the plug and starts tugging gently, pulling it out just a touch and then letting it be sucked back in, and the noises that pulls from Peter leads him to suspect that possibly the older man isn’t being _completely_ selfless here.  He wants to be sure though, so he asks, “you’re really OK with this? “ even as he continues to work the plug gently in and out.

 

“Oh, sweetheart”, Peter huffs out, “You’ve got such a lovely long cock, and it’s going to feel so good inside me. Really Stiles, have you ever known me to do something I didn’t want to?” and actually, Stiles considers, that’s completely true. Peter gets what he wants, and Peter wants what he gets.

So he pushes his doubts aside,( gotta make it good, don’t know what I’m doing, hope I can last), and goes back to licking and biting, grinding his cock against Peters, and playing with the plug with a little more intent.

Peter has his arms around him, massaging his ass, holding him close, and they rock together like that for a few more minutes, and Stiles is totally not spending that time formulating a Plan of Attack, no sir, he’s just gonna do what he knows _he_  likes. And what he likes is when Peter fingers him open with his Secret Wolf Oil, but when he nudges at Peter, and asks him for the bottle, a devilish look passes over the older mans face, and he shakes his head.

Then, he  rolls over onto his front, ass in the air, and somehow managing to make it look smooth, with a grace Stiles could only dream of, he grasps the base of the plug and tugs it right out, leaving his hole open and inviting and _glistening_ as a stream of oil comes dripping out, trickling down his crack, and over his balls, and he’s absolutely _oozing_ oil.

Stiles thinks he’s never seen anything hotter in his life. Peter then destroys all rational thought, by sliding his own fingers lazily in and out of his ass, two of them right off the bat, spreading the oil and displaying himself.

It seems unfair to Stiles that every time he thinks he knows Peter a little, the wolf pulls some shit like this.

Stiles whines.

He thinks he loses a minute or two of time, utterly transfixed by the sight before him, but then his brain comes back into play, his arousal roars into life, and he wants that, wants it to be him sliding in and out.

He realizes that he is actually chanting “want it, want it, want it” when Peter chuckles darkly.

Stiles bats Peter’s hand away, and replaces it with his own, two of those long, nimble fingers sliding right in, and the smooth clench around them is like nothing he’s ever felt before, and he can suddenly see why Peter never seems to mind fingering him wide open, because holy hell, the warmth and the pull is addictive, it’s hypnotic.

His other hand moves to fondle Peter’s balls, playing in the oil that’s dripped down, rolling them gently in his hand, and he’s pleased to see that it makes Peter’s erection twitch and dance. Buoyed with his success so far, he starts to rotate his fingers inside; looking for that spot that he knows from experience feels amazing.

A startled “Hnnnngh!” from Peter tells him he’s hit the jackpot, his fingers are awfully long after all, and feeling more confident now, he strokes and rubs  that nub of flesh until Peter is flat out whining, and that’s never happened before, and is this what Stiles looks like when it’s him? No wonder Peter tells him he’s beautiful, even if it’s not really true, he thinks.

Peter is rocking back on his hand now, and Stiles adds a third finger. It’s not really needed, the plug has left Peter well stretched, but he wants to OK? If he’s doing this, he’s doing ALL the things.

At the extra addition, Peter groans, long and deep, gasping. This time it’s Stiles who’s murmuring to Peter, “Doing so well for me, love seeing you like this, ready for more?” because as much as he could do this for hours, he’s eager to feel that clench around his cock, which has been hard and neglected all this time, and really deserves some birthday love.

“Ready when you are sweetheart” Peter grits out, eyes closed and panting, and now Stiles _knows_ he’s never seen anything hotter.

Stiles  removes his fingers and, settles himself behind Peter, using the oil still dripping to slick himself up (so much oil,  he thinks, and thanks the gods that Peter has been so generous with it), and sets the head of his cock against the twitching pucker.

Taking a deep breath, he pushes forwards, slowly, gently, and…nothing.

His cock slides up Peter’s cleft, rubbing up and down as he misses the mark.

OK then, he thinks, no pressure, don’t panic.

He breathes deeply. Grabs his cock and strokes it a couple of times, gathering himself.

And then…..and then he sees Peter reach behind himself, and pull his cheeks apart, waiting, inviting, and NOW, now he’s officially seen the hottest thing ever, and all his nervousness leaves him. 

He uses one hand to line himself up, and with the other on the small of Peter’s back to steady himself _, pushes_ forward, forcing his way inside, feeling that first ring of muscles move aside and stretch around him until finally the head just pops right in.

Peter honest to God howls.

 


	3. Feeding the snake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is long, and lean, but he’s not lean everywhere. He is long everywhere though....

When Stiles was six , he went to the pet shop with his mother.

They were feeding mice to the resident snake, and Stiles knew the mouse would never ever fit into the snakes tiny mouth. Suddenly, the snake unhinged its jaw and swallowed the whole thing. Stiles was wide eyed that it all fitted in at once.

Right now, Stiles feels a little like that mouse.

How the hell did his dick even fit inside Peter?

Stiles is long, and lean, but he’s not lean _everywhere._ He is long everywhere though, with quite a generous girth. He had actually always thought his dick was pretty average, having no basis for comparison, till Peter had commented one night while they were indulging in some heavy petting, something about “so young, so well hung”, and Stiles had just laughed.

Peter had looked incredulously at him, realized that Stiles genuinely had no idea, and broken it to him that porn wasn’t real, most guys weren’t packing ten inches, and what Stiles was sporting was actually a very generous serving. The ego boost from that alone may have led to the first of Stiles’ fang popping blow jobs.

 

Now, he’s looking down, and can see Peter's rim stretched just behind the head of his cock. It’s so fucking tight, and he’s mesmerized by the sight and the incredibly intense sensation. It seems like hours have passed, but it’s only seconds, the echo of Peter’s howl still fading, and he suddenly wants, no, _needs_ to see if he can really fit in there.

Peter’s ass is pulsing around Stiles’ length, and he's panting gently as Stiles presses further forward, inching in steadily, like a glacier, slow, steady, relentless, unstoppable.

He’s in,and there are no words. This feels so good,so hot and tight,and he could just stay here nestled in that snug heat. But the slide of it was so good as well, and maybe he wants that more.

 He’s beyond words right now. Peter’s not much better, but is at least managing the odd syllable, a broken string of “yessss……aaah……..good….more……fucking huge …….fuck me ….fuck me…. fuck me….”

 

Stiles does.

 

He pulls out, and oh yeah, that’s almost better than going in, but then he thrusts in again, just to check.

Both. Both are good.

He sets up a steady, solid rhythm as Peter rocks back against him, thrusting as hard as he dares. Peter's hands are no longer holding his ass, he's now supporting his weight so he can push back and give Stiles something to work against.

It doesn’t take Stiles long to pull Peter back by his hips, adjusting their positions so that he hits Peter’s prostate on every stroke, and oh, there’s that “Hnnnnnngh” noise from Peter again. He laps it up; it means he's pleasing his lover.

They work their bodies in tandem. They push and pull against each other, Stiles revelling in the new sensations, feeling himself getting closer to the edge.

He reaches around under Peter and starts stroking his neglected cock- up on the in stroke, down on the out stroke, like a metronome, A strong, steady rhythm, up, down, in, out, and he can feel the hot drip of precome from the older man. 

He has time to think to himself that hey, for a first time he’s lasting pretty well, and then Peter, utter bastard that he is, starts clenching his ass every time Stiles bottoms out.

“Playing dirty!” Stiles accuses through gritted teeth, as he tries to hold back.

“Always! “gasps Peter…. and then he clenches down even harder.

Several things happen at once.

Stiles holds his fingernail against Peter’s slit and presses in.

Peter spurts come so hard it lands up near his chin.

The reflex spasming of his hole causes Stiles to suddenly shoot his load,  cursing Peter the whole time.

 


	4. Most Precious Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Afterwards, there are more birthday gifts. Feelings ensue and are resolutely ignored.

They lay together like that, Stiles draped over Peter's back, both panting and exhausted, both sated and sticky, and then Peter speaks.

"Happy Birthday, sweetheart, hoped you enjoyed that as much as I did"  he mumbles into the pillow.

Stiles pulls out of Peter as gently as he can, screwing up his face a little at the feeling. He sees Peter pulling a face as well, when come and oil starts leaking out onto the sheets.

“That was fucking amazing Peter, thank you for my present” he whispers, kissing Peter’s phenomenal neck (because hello, neck, right there…)

Peter smirks at him.

“What?” he asks, because he’s missing something, obviously.

“Your present? That wasn’t your present” drawls Peter.

Stiles sits bolt upright in bed.

“Are you sure? Because it felt like all my birthdays came at once” he grins, proud of the cheesy one liner. Peter groans.

 “But seriously, that was it right? Please don’t tell me you went shopping and bought me stuff”

Peter stretches languorously, before sitting up and pulling Stiles into a deep, slow kiss. 

They make out for a while longer, just because they can, before Peter leans over, and from under the bed pulls three parcels which he presents to Stiles with a flourish.

“First of all” he states, “I let you have my ass because I wanted us to try this. If you had said no, I would have been fine with it. Sex is not a bargaining chip, it’s not an obligation you fulfill on Christmas morning or an anniversary. It’s something we both enjoy, but neither of us should ever feel pressured into doing anything we aren’t comfortable with.” And he looks so serious, so passionate about this, that Stiles is taken aback.

 But it’s Peter, after all, and so he continues “Secondly, if I can’t get you into bed on my charm and good looks alone, I obviously need to work on my assets” – and with that he stretches his arms above his head, tilting his head back and rolling his shoulders to give Stiles a full view of flexing muscles and bulging neck tendons, because he really is a tease like that.

Seeing the uncertainty in Stiles'eyes, he relents and adds"And thirdly, stop thinking so hard. It was everything I thought it would be and more, it truly was special Stiles, and I'd be honoured to do it again sometime"

“Now, open your damn gifts” he grumbles, and if Stiles didn’t know better he’d think Peter was nervous, but surely not, Stiles is well aware that if anyone is punching above their weight in this thing they have, it’s him.

Still, he sets to opening the parcels, starting with the heaviest one. It feels bookish, and as he tears away the paper he gasps sharply as the cover comes into view.

This, this is something special.

He’d heard it existed, but had never seen a copy, or known of anyone who had.

It’s an oddly formal looking book, bound in red leather, with the title embossed in gold leaf.

_A Guide to Werewolves , the Physical and Psychological_

And in smaller letters underneath,

_An initiative in peaceful interspecies integration._

Twenty five years ago, when the wolves had revealed themselves, (partly because they were tired of living in the shadows, and partly because they genuinely thought that peaceful integration was a possibility), the _Guide_ had been released and distributed to every major library worldwide. It was hoped that it would provide humans with the information needed to go about their lives knowing that they didn’t need to fear being attacked in their beds by rogue wolves.

 It was the most comprehensive and well detailed work on werewolves ever written, everything in it came directly from the werewolves. It was an incredible act of trust, revealing their secret life to the world. Everything was accurate. It was beautiful.

And upon its release, the best and brightest of the human race decided that it was a threat.

They burned it. They shredded it. They decried it from the pulpits of the land as Lies of Satan.

After all, they argued, who could trust a wolf to tell them what they _really_ needed to know? It was obviously full of lies, to lull decent people into a false sense of security.

 

And so for Stiles to be looking at a copy? He’s almost too afraid to breathe on it, in case he damages it. It is quite literally one of the rarest books in the world. He wants to gather it in his arms and protect it from all  who would do harm.

“How do you even have this Peter? And why are you giving it to me?” he asks quietly.

Peter leans over, opens the front cover, and points to the copperplate lettering inside where it’s inscribed “Ex Libris Hale”.

“Friend of the family was one of the original authors, gave it to me way back when. It was in the vault. I know you love books, being a librarian, thought it would be better off being used than gathering dust”  he shrugs, much too nonchalantly.

But he can see the reaction the gift has caused, and he’s smiling a pleased, secret smile, a soft look that reaches his eyes.

If Stiles doesn’t do something, he’s going to break down and cry with the sheer enormity of this, and so he folds his arms and huffs “Excuse me, that’s Beacon Hills’ HEAD librarian to you, Wolfman.”

 “Well Mr Head Librarian, are you going to open your other presents or are you going to wallow in these come soaked sheets all night?” Peter sasses back, and now they’re both wearing  smiles., and thank all that’s holy, they’ve managed to navigate the rocky waters of actual emotions and sail right past them until a later date.

The second parcel is even bulkier that the first, and Stiles only hesitates for a second before opening it, hoping like hell it’s not a Gutenberg Bible or something equally ridiculous. But it’s not.

It’s a gift that’s pure Peter.

 He sees the funny side of it immediately and starts snickering at the sheer volume of thousand count sheets in there. Six sets. One for every day of the week. There are even a set of satin ones for Sundays. 

“Are you implying my bed linen isn’t up to scratch?” He demands, still grinning.

Peter arches an eyebrow and points out that

  1. Stiles has exactly one set of ‘decent’ sheets, and
  2. they are awfully messy in bed and
  3. since Stiles is going to be getting lucky a lot more,
  4. they should have more linen at his place because



     5. it’s such wicked fun traumatizing Tammy from next door

Stiles concedes that these points are all completely accurate, and leans in for a quick kiss. While he’s there, Peter reaches out and grabs the pink bud of his nipple and twists a little, getting a breathy “ah” sound from Stiles.

He grins wickedly then, and he hands over the third gift, a small square box with nothing to indicate where it might be from. “This one’s for sharing” he purrs, and Stiles quickly opens it, wild with curiosity.

Holy  Jesus  Mary and Joseph.

Lying innocuously in the box is a high quality pair of nipple clamps, complete with a connecting chain.

Made for sharing, indeed.

 

But after, maybe.

 After they shower together,with Stiles deliberately arching his head back and baring his throat for the rivulets of water to run down in a way he knows drives Peter crazy.

After Peter shares, in filthy detail, exactly what it felt like working in a bar all evening with an ass filled with oil and a plug, just because he hoped his boy would like it.

After they play twenty questions, and Stiles shares that topping was great, but that for him maybe it’s an occasional thing, and Peter happily agrees -  it's not an itch he gets the urge to scratch very often, either.

And _after_ Stiles figures out. as he's drifting off to sleep, that the gift he couldn’t have if he was drunk was, in fact, the priceless artifact and family heirloom that Peter has given to _him,_ to Stiles, almost as though he means something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If such a book did exist, we all know that Peter would be the one person who could lay his hands on it.  
> Also, now we know what Stiles does for a living. After he got his degree in Mythology and Literature, a couple people on the town council emailed him asking if he'd please take the job, because the old librarian Mrs Mazursky refused to retire until somebody she knew was willing to take over, and she's always liked Stiles, and she's 82 and has fallen asleep at the desk three times in the last week.  
>  Stiles thought it was worth a try, and absolutely loves it.   
> He's has a sign made - No Shushing In The Library - because he loves how it messes with peoples heads........I'm not sure why you needed to know any of this......


	5. Sleepy.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles dozes.Peter reflects.

As Stiles drifts in and out of sleep, Peter props himself up on his elbow and watches him with affection.

He aches a little from their earlier activities, but knows it will be gone soon enough.

 Werewolf healing is its own reward, though it’s a shame when Stiles does his damnedest to mark him, only to have the evidence of his passion disappear so quickly.

 Stiles had managed to thoroughly satisfy peter tonight, using his own knowledge of what felt good, and Peter was quietly impressed. 

It was a mean, dirty trick to drive him over the edge at the end, he fully admits that, but just because he was _bottoming_ didn’t mean he was willing to give up _control._ Wolf,after all.

He’s pleased with how his gifts were received, he won’t lie.

The sheets were almost a joke, but they were also his “I don’t know what the hell to get you “ backup gift. Safe. Sensible. Impersonal. Polite.  They needed something else.

The clamps were the something else. He’d initially thought of offering to get Stiles piercings, but it's not his choice to make.His boy going weeks or months without any kind of nipple play while they healed?

It would be cruel to them both.( He may bring it up in 20 questions though. )

He knows Stiles doesn’t realise it yet, but _these_ clamps are top of the line, titanium, custom made. When he wakes up and looks closely, he’ll see the tiny wolf’s head engraved in the sides. Peter likes to mark things as his.

It’s a wolf thing- one of the many topics covered in the tome Peter has given him.

Ah, the damned book. 

Not the last one in existence by any means. Peter knows that quite a few packs have a copy or two stashed away. But not something that’s generally shared with humans either, the betrayal of what happened when it was first released still a sore point in wolf culture.

Peter hadn’t actually given his copy a thought for years, and it was only a couple of weeks ago when Stiles was ranting about people “not treating books with respect, Peter, do they not realise that somebody poured their heart and soul into writing that? You can’t just treat them like a lump of paper, they need to be cherished!”  that it had flashed to the forefront of his mind, and he’d known in that moment that Stiles needed to have it.

Peter knew that it would earn him major kudos, but that wasn’t the reason behind the gift.

Regardless of how long this thing between them went on, (and he was more hopeful each day that this would last a little longer), here was a man who would truly appreciate the book for what it was.

He knows that as gifts go, it’s a little over the top when they’ve only been dating for two months, but he’s emotionally invested.

Nobody’s more surprised by this than he is, but he finds he just wants to make Stiles happy, to see that wicked glint in his eye when they get up to mischief together.

He wants to make him laugh, to distract him when he gets annoyed at Tammy slipping yet another pamphlet under his door extolling the dangers of  human-werewolf relations. (She thinks they don’t know it’s her. They totally know it’s her. They’re planning their revenge).

He’s pulled out of his reverie by Stiles peering at him though half lidded eyes, and muttering “Stop thinking, and come nuzzle me” while tilting his head back invitingly.  

Peter leans in to scent him, rubbing his goatee over Stiles’ exposed throat and humming happily. It’s very domestic, and Peter wonders exactly when that became something he enjoyed so much?

 He’s Peter Hale, all round asshole, king of self-interest, master manipulator, but with Stiles none of that seems to apply.

 He finds he can live with that.

The gifts have been set off to one side, so there’s nothing in his way as he rolls over and pulls the boy’s naked body closer, running his hands over his shoulders and down to his backside, even as he continues to nip and nuzzle, mark and claim.

The breathy sighs Stiles lets out are music to his ears, and the cuddle  evolves  into slow grinding, which then turns into a lazy  handjob for them both. They’re too tired for more, and the closeness is enough for now.

They fall asleep with Stiles sprawled on his back and Peter’s face pressed into the crook of his neck, scenting him even as he sleeps.

Peter Hale, nuzzler of necks, master cuddler.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where Peter's bed came from, or even if such a thing exists. He whispered to me and told me about it in that land halfway between dreams and waking.


End file.
